All Tucked In
by PiscesChikk
Summary: A snowstorm is coming and Carter has a raging fever. It's up to Reese to provide some much needed TLC.


A/N ~ A short snippet that came to me while I was watching a movie. Hope you enjoy.

No beta, forgive the mistakes.

* * *

Carter shivered as she pulled another pair of wool socks onto her feet. She'd been fighting off the flu and a rising temperature for the last two days. The chill of a New York winter wasn't helping, and each time the weather changed it seemed she was getting worse. The weather channel predicted that they'd be getting two inches of snow overnight. She groaned thinking about how she'd be stuck inside by herself, but at the same time, a warm bed and a quiet house was what she needed for the next few hours anyway.

Taylor and her mom had taken an impromptu trip for the weekend to see her uncle and his kids in Boston. So she had the place to herself. She was glad that her boy wasn't here to potentially catch the bug she'd gotten, but she also wished she'd had someone to get her something to drink right now. Her muscles were tired and achy, her throat was parched, but there was no way she was getting up out of bed, especially not after the exertion it took just to get socks out of the drawer and put them on. She sniffled, put the covers over her head again and closed her eyes.

She lay underneath the covers feeling restless for a while; sleep seemed to elude her. All she could hear was the sound of the clock on the wall in the living room and her own labored breathing. The digital clock on her nightstand said that it was shortly after 4pm. Maybe she should try to watch TV for a while. Sitting up too abruptly rendered her dizzy for a moment, and she blinked in an effort to regain her equilibrium. She put the back of her hand to her forehead and squinted at the pins and needles sensation in her head. Maybe she should lie back down instead.

She was about to do just that when she heard a loud knock on her door. Positive that she was hallucinating, she slid further down into the bed, about to lay her head back on her pillow. The sound came again, louder this time, and she could swear she heard someone calling her name.

It took a concerted effort to get up out of bed and an even bigger one to get down the stairs to the front door. When she swung it open to see who it was, a gust of cold air made its way inside.

"John?" she asked.

He stared at her for a while, staying by the door frame. She guessed the sight of her with her hair askew, cotton robe half open and two different pairs of socks on was a sight to behold. She felt light on her feet and swerved toward him.

"Joss."

He put his arms around her to steady her, and she felt the warmth of his wool coat surround her.

"Why the hell didn't you call me?" A strong note of worry accompanied the normal raspy tone of his voice.

He slammed the door behind him, said sorry when she winced at the sound and then bolted the locks.

"You don't look good."

She managed to grin at him. "You don't say. Well I will have you know that I am doing a lot better. I can hold my food down now. If you'd been here yesterday, I'm sure the scent of vomit…among other things would've sent you running for the hills.

His forehead knotted, and though she knew her answer was crass, she didn't care. Plus she was still a little angry at him from the other day. Although with her being sick, she honestly couldn't remember just exactly why. All she knew was that her annoyance had remained.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked. "Fusco had to tell me you were sick. Come on."

She only shrugged, damning Fusco and his big mouth. Before she could protest, she was up in his arms and being carried back up the stairs. She didn't have the energy or strength to argue. She simply rested her head against his chest and took comfort in the warmth of him as he held her. He seemed to carry her without effort, and his eyes were focused on her the whole time. Besides the warmth that was coursing through her, she felt something else emanating from him that she didn't want to think about at the moment.

Soon they were back in her room, and she felt the softness of her bed at her back again. He tucked her in under her blankets.

"Have you eaten today?"

She shook her head. "I've had a lot of ginger tea. Didn't want to eat anything. Had too much trouble keeping food down yesterday."

She felt congested, felt her nose draining, but he reached for the box of Kleenex at her bedside and grabbed a few of them out. He held it underneath her nostrils, silently waiting for her to blow. She did as he wanted, unsure of how she felt about him wiping her nose for her. He looked around for her wastebasket and threw the soiled tissues in it.

He sat next to her on the bed and moved the back of his hand over her forehead and cheeks, her neck and chest. "God, you're burning up, Joss."

He got up and paced a little. "We got to do something about this. You stay here and sleep a little, and I'll be right back. Where are your house keys?"

"Why?"

"So that when I get back I can let myself in. I don't wanna risk you coming downstairs again and hurting yourself."

He was being especially sweet and considerate; it almost made her less angry with him than she was.

"They're on the coffee table in the den."

Her head hit the pillow, and the last thing she heard was his footsteps going down the stairs then out the door. Her eyes were already closed and sleep finally came.

She'd fallen asleep to the echo of his footsteps, and a similar sound is what woke her. She turned over in bed. Her bedroom door was open and light was coming from the kitchen downstairs. She heard water running, the fridge door being opened and closed and despite her congestion she made out what smelled like soup. She couldn't tell what kind, but her stomach lurched at the aroma. She put a hand to her tummy, willing it to behave. Was that hunger, nausea, or a bit of both?

"Ugh."

John was making his way upstairs again. His footsteps were getting closer. Instead of cutting on the overhead light, he turned on the floor lamp next to her bed. He sat next to her again and touched her forehead once more.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Still sleepy. Still sore."

"Maybe a little hungry?"

"I don't know. I'm still scared to eat anything."

"I made some chicken soup. I want you to eat some of it. It'll settle your stomach."

"John, I -"

"You need something warm in you, Joss." He slid his hand over her stomach and let it linger there. His gesture caused her to stop midsentence. "Let me take care of you, okay? Don't fight me."

"I…okay."

"Good."

"If I throw up all over your afterward, don't' say I didn't warn you."

Her words drew a chuckle from him, but one look at him told her that he had something else up his sleeve.

"What?" she asked. She was actually starting to get nervous.

"We need to break that fever."

"Tell me about it. I've already taken something. Doesn't seem like it's workin' though."

"I'm going to make a suggestion you're probably not gonna like."

"Which is what?" she asked and sat up way too quickly.

"Take it easy," he said, gripping both her shoulders when she looked momentarily disoriented. "We need to get you into the tub."

" _What_?"

* * *

She hadn't fought when he pulled her to the edge of her bed and then helped her stand. She held onto him as he slid off her socks first, then her pajama bottoms. She listened to the water run in the tub as he pulled her cotton t-shirt over her head and her bare breasts were suddenly exposed to him. All that was left were her panties. He lifted her by the hands, told her to grip his shoulders and soon her panties were on the floor next to the rest of her clothing.

She said nothing as his gaze moved from her bare feet, up her calves, thighs, her mound that he stared at for more than a few seconds. He stood up slowly, but not before taking in the view of her breasts.

"Seen enough, yet?"

He cleared his throat as a red blush quickly stained his cheeks. She hadn't known John was capable of blushing. He led her to the bathroom and cut the water off. It was half full, and she mentally prepared herself for the shock of cold water she knew was coming.

He helped her into the tub, but she realized the water was lukewarm.

"Isn't this supposed to be cold?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. Common misconception about throwing someone into cold water to reduce a fever. It can actually increase your internal temperature in some cases. Just lie back while I -"

"While you what?"

"I thought you said you weren't going to fight me." He seemed a little frustrated, but was determined to be patient. She could hear it in his voice and see it as his hands twitched for a moment. "There's jasmine oil in the water, I've got the loofah and your favourite bath gel. Just…let me do this."

She stared at the sponge in his hand while he waited for her permission. His eyes softened, as did his tone of voice. He squeezed her hand, and his touch was so gentle she decided to give in and let go.

She nodded. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"I definitely thought you did."

She closed her eyes as he wiped her down. The lather felt good on her skin despite it not being as hot as she usually liked it. He was careful and soft as he touched her, scrubbing her back and neck, her shoulders. He didn't miss an inch of her - maybe an intimate inch or two - and every bit of her body was grateful for his care. She felt the tiredness leave, she felt the soreness in her muscles start to go as the soap and water moved over her. When he was almost done, he pulled her up to the edge of the tub with his chest to her back and opened her legs.

"Do you want to…you know..."

His cheek was near hers as the sponge glided over the top of her thighs. His hand lay flat against her stomach, his fingers splayed there. It was there to steady her, to keep her from toppling over and falling down, but his hand was having a ripple effect inside her tummy. She blamed it on the fact that she hadn't eaten all day. Blamed it on gas, an upset stomach even. But deep down, she knew it was something else.

She shook her head slowly, "You go ahead."

She gave him leave to touch her in the most intimate of places and hissed when the sponge softly rubbed against her opening. He took his time as he touched her there, and she leaned her head onto his shoulder. John's touch had the potential to be purely sexual, but she was overcome with something else; the feeling of being taken care of. Totally, fully, and completely. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this relaxed. Or safe.

She moaned as he rinsed her off, and felt like she was floating when he lifted her out of the tub finally and wrapped her in a large fluffy towel. He padded across to her bed where he toweled her off and dressed her in warm clothes again.

"Do you want me to do your hair?"

" _Can_ _you_?" she asked in disbelief, a smile splitting her face.

"Well I won't pretend to be an expert, but I might be able to manage a loose ponytail."

 _He was serious. He was actually serious_ , she thought.

He really meant to take care of her. In every way he could. She nodded and wasn't surprised when he knew exactly which drawer to find her hair supplies and a brush.

"I don't think you need any products tonight. Your hair is soft enough."

His words were a deep whisper in the back of her; all she did was moan in response. His fingers felt so good on her scalp and as they ghosted her nape. He gently brushed her edges, got all her baby hairs and her kitchen and managed to put her hair up in a hair tie at the end of it all. It was slack, but snug enough that it wouldn't slip off during the night while she slept.

"Do you want to tie it up?" he offered as he stepped in front of her. "I remember seeing you with a silk head cloth before."

This time she laughed, thinking about the time he came over when she was spring cleaning. She'd been elbow deep in oven cleaner, wearing some jeans shorts and a tank top. She'd had a pink head scarf on that day, and he'd stared curiously at it as he pushed his way inside to 'help'. She couldn't believe he'd remembered that.

"Before I go to bed, I'll put it on."

"Okay."

"Thank you, John."

"For what?" he asked, putting her brush back where he got it from.

"For all this. Getting me in the tub, dressing me, the hair. I appreciate it."

"I'd like to think you'd do the same for me."

Suddenly she remembered him bloodied after getting shot by Mark Snow, her helping him into the back of Finch's car. She hadn't known if he was okay for weeks, but she'd spent many nights wondering if he'd made it. They'd saved each other quite a few times since then. She guessed that it was something that would continue for a long time into the future.

 _Yes,_ she thought to herself. She would most definitely return the favour if given the chance.

"Walk downstairs with me. I want you to eat some of that soup."

"You mean you're not gonna carry me this time?"

"Well I was considering it, but I didn't want the knight in shining armour to overstay his welcome. How bout a compromise?"

"Sure."

He took her by the waist and they walked downstairs together. He didn't hurry though his longs legs could definitely cover more space than hers could, but his steps moved slowly in time with hers till they got to the bottom. She made her way to the sofa and cut the TV on while he disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back he was carrying a TV tray in his hand with a big bowl of hot soup and some bread and she didn't argue or fuss when he began to feed her. It was warm as it went down. Most food she'd consumed in the last two days had tasted like sandpaper, but this? This was good.

Through the opened window both of them watched as the snow began to fall. As predicted, the tentative snowflakes that fell from the sky eventually turned into a thick downfall that blanketed the ground.

"Looks like I'm stuck here tonight."

She raised an eyebrow at his declaration, saw the nervous look on his face, but kissed her teeth.

"You wanted to be stuck here, didn't you? That was your plan all along."

"I came over to see how you were, and you needed taking care of."

"Nah…you can't fool me, John," she said, suppressing a sneeze. "You wanted to be here."

"I did," he admitted. "I wanted to be near you."

She sneezed. Twice. And he was on his feet and bringing her Kleenex again. The warmth from the soup caused her nose to open up and drain. She felt less congested than before.

"Thanks," she said and wiped at her nose.

"I'm sorry, Joss."

Silence passed between them for a moment while he looked at her. "I'm sorry, and I won't ever do that again."

"Yes, you will." She shook her head. Though in all honesty it really didn't matter. He'd more than made up for it just by being here for her tonight. She was already physically better, and she was warmed by the fact that he was ignoring everyone and everything else to take care of her.

The TV tray was transferred to the coffee table. The bowl was now empty and her stomach was full and surprisingly settled. John joined her on the couch and pulled her against his chest while she switched the channel to A&E to watch _The First 48_.

She enjoyed the feel of his fingers as they traced her hairline and the feel of his chin near her shoulder. The comfort of his embrace was one she didn't want to leave and she started to drift off before the programme was even finished.

"I promise I won't," she heard him whisper and felt his lips near her ear. It was the softest of kisses, and his assurance was the last thing before she closed her eyes. "I promise I won't, Joss."


End file.
